Tucoeyes, tell me about a time one of them tried to make a homemade gift for the other? 😀
(IDK how this ended up Blondeyes? It did though.)
In theory, there must be a moment between sleep and waking; a nebulous point of insecurity, of transition betwixt states.
In practice, Blondie muses, he’s yet to actually catch Angel Eyes looking flustered during that process.
Albeit, the man’s certainly looking flustered now. “…are my cupcakes on fire?”
“Whoops,” Blondie says. Not budging an inch from the beanbag parked next to the fireplace.
He reacts not at all to Angel’s scowling, nor smoke rather more noisome than that of pipe tobacco, nor the blustery wind that blows in when Angel pries up the latch.
“You might have woken me up.”
“I trust you to know what you’re doing in the kitchen. Didn’t seem my business to interfere,” Blondie says, rising; goes to rest a comfortable hand on Angel’s back. “Don’t be so anxious. Tuco isn’t going to mind.”
“Orange-rind cupcakes and orange frosting. I gave myself one task to do today, just one, and I’ve- I’ve-”
“Angel. You know if there’s anything he is gonna hate for his birthday, it’s you getting worked up….besides which,” Blondie says, dipping his thumb into the cut-glass bowl. “Could be worse. This frosting’s all right, he’ll enjoy that.”
He licks it off, meditatively, while Angel stares.
“Frosting on top of what?”
“Forget what, just give him the bowl and tell him to dig in. He won’t know the difference. You can always blame it on me, if you like.”
The thin-lipped expression on Angel’s face is nothing akin to gratitude: more of studied calculation. “If it doesn’t go well, you can rest assured I will-”
“You two are such idiots, you know that?” a voice calls from the bedroom. “Can I come out yet?”
“Yes and yes,” Blondie says, taking a bite of slightly charred cupcake. Angel’s too fussy. It tastes all right to him-
“…ooh, so that’s what that smell was.”
“Yes,” Angel Eyes says, with the composed readiness of a waiting martyr. “Apologies.”
Tuco shrugs and grabs a spoon. “You worry too much, that’s what…”